


Love and pancakes

by MissSlothy



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Pancakes, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 14:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSlothy/pseuds/MissSlothy
Summary: Pancakes served with love always make the world look like a better, happier place.This started off as simple fluff.  As usual I ended up adding angst.  Sorry about that.  There is a happy ending though :)





	Love and pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RacoonSA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RacoonSA/gifts).



> I wrote this quickly, to get back into writing after a short break. It hasn’t been beta-ed so apologies for any typos.
> 
> It mentions some things that actually happened in the show but I may have changed them slightly to fit the story. You'll see what I mean :)
> 
> Gifting this to RacoonSA because sometimes fanfic can make a tough week feel a bit better *hugs*

It’s not that Danny forgets about his first birthday since moving to Hawaii.  It’s more that it creeps up on him, hidden in the maelstrom that is his new life.  It’s the week before when he finally remembers – or to be exact, when Rachel reminds him.  Grace, she tells him as they stand at the end of her ridiculously long driveway, has a recital on the evening of his birthday so won’t be able to see him.  He nods, numbly.

“Sure,” he concedes, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  Hunching his shoulders, he turns back for his car.  “Whatever.”

He’s sure if Steve were here he’d raise an eyebrow in surprise at his lack of fight.  As it is, he can feel Rachel watching him, her gaze drilling accusingly into the space between his shoulder blades.  When he does look back it’s not to talk to Rachel: Grace is standing at her bedroom window, where she always stands.  The smile he shares with her is genuine.  She’s the centre of his universe, his everything.  His heart swells with love when she waves back.  Biting back his anger he nods at Rachel and gets in his car.

When he wakes up the next morning in his shit-hole of an apartment his chest aches with home-sickness.  Sure, it’s not as bad as it was ten months ago, when he first arrived on the islands.  But the days after Grace has left are the worst.  All he wants to do is hide under the bedcovers and never come out.

Arriving at his desk, he finds a lone masalada and his favourite coffee waiting for him.  The aroma of warmed coffee beans and sugar fill his office.  Slumping tiredly into his chair he pulls the coffee cup closer and breathes deeply.  Closing his eyes, he takes his first sip.

He’s just finished both when Chin sticks his head around the door, asking for help with their latest case.  The rest of the day passes in a blur.  He’s vaguely aware that Chin and Kono are treating him gently.  He’s definitely aware of Steve’s laser-like gaze following his every move.  Mostly though he’s aware of the warmth and friendship surrounding him, keeping him afloat.

By the time his birthday comes round he’s got his head around the fact that he won’t see Grace.  Steve, he thinks, would call it ‘denial’.  Luckily he has no intention of discussing this with his partner, especially this morning when Jersey – and his family - feel as far away as the moon.

Parking outside Steve’s house he braces himself, gets ready to face the day.  Sliding out of the car he strides to the front door and lets himself in.

He’s expecting Steve to be waiting for him on the other side of the door.  Steve’s always on time.  Added to that, Steve’s been watching him the last few days, giving him the full doe-eyed sad look that has no place on a bad-ass SEAL’s face.  It’s the same look that makes his chest constrict, squeezing at the complicated knot of feelings that he has for his partner.  For his friend.

Scowling at his own thoughts, he shakes his head.  There’s no way he’s touching that issue with a six-foot barge-pole today.  Jamming his hands in his pockets, he calls out Steve’s name.

“Ummm…in here.”

Cocking his head, he follows the sound of Steve’s voice to the kitchen.  His partner sounds uncertain, maybe even worried.  It’s such an alien sound, his brain is struggling to process it.  Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Danny slowly pushes the kitchen door open – and freezes.

For a moment he retains his composure.  But there’s no way he can hold back the bubble of laughter that’s rapidly overtaking him.  By the time he composes himself again he’s bent over double, his ribs aching from laughing so hard.

Hauling himself upright, he waves a hand in apology.   “Sorry, babe,” he manages before another snort of laughter escapes.  Taking a deep breath, he tries again.  “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Steve blinks back at him.  He’s dressed for work, in his normal tee and cargo pants, his ridiculously huge combat boots sticking out at the bottom.  But he’s covered in light sprinkling of white-powder.  Flour, Danny realises, studying the carnage on the worktop.  Even Steve’s eyelashes are coated in it, making him look even more doe-eyed than normal.

Suddenly, Danny feels very sober.  His fingers twitch with the urge to wipe the flour away.  His heart rate spikes, his mouth feels dry.  His words – his defensive mechanism – have abandoned him.  His feet are stuck to the floor.

Steve blinks back at him again.  In his right hand he’s holding a spatula.  He looks down at it stupidly, like he’s not sure where it’s come from.  His eyes go wider, deep swirling pools of complicated emotions staring out from his pale face. 

They stare at each.

Steve’s harsh intake of breath shatters the moment.  He jerks away.  “Pancakes,” he mutters,  jabbing at the pan on the stove with the spatula.

Danny tries to ignore the way Steve’s cheeks have flushed under the flour.  It’s the heat from the stove, he tells himself, forcing his legs to work.  “Pancakes?” he parrots, dragging the word out between his teeth as he peers around Steve’s shoulder.  “Newsflash, babe.  We’re supposed to be at work.”

“Later,” Steve replies, unhelpfully.  He stabs at the frying pan again.  “I followed the instructions,” he adds, scowling.

Danny scowls too.  Then he sniffs.  The kitchen smells of burnt milk and flour.

As if anticipating Danny’s next question Steve grabs a cook book from the worktop.  He waves it under Danny’s nose.  “These instructions are sh—”

He grabs the book off Steve, making soothing sounds under his breath.  He’s seen his partner stay calm in the most dangerous situations.  The fact that he looks like he’s about to fling the cook book across the kitchen is worrying.  Scanning the instructions he raises his eyebrows.  “I can’t see  the problem.  This is pretty standard recipe for pancakes and—”

“I don’t know how to make them.”

Steve’s mumbling.  Danny runs the mumble back through his head before lowering the book.  “Never?  You’ve _never_ made pancakes?”

Steve shrugs, one-shouldered.  It’s defensive.  “I lived on base.  They fed me, okay?”

“Okay.  Okay.”  Danny raises his hand in surrender.  He surveys the mess again.  It’s very un-Steve like.  Rubbing at his eyebrow with his thumb, he takes a steadying breath.  “Remind me again.   _Why_ are you making pancakes?”

Steve throws the spatula down on the worktop.  Turning, he faces Danny.  Crossing his arms, he raises his chin.  His tee-shirt sifts with his muscles.  Flour floats in the air around him.  “It’s your birthday.”

Danny swallows.  Hard.  His stomach’s just plummeted.  He’s got an idea where this is going.

“I asked Kono what to get you for your birthday,” Steve continues, glaring at the ruined frying pan as if it’s a perp he wants to throw off a building.  “She told me you like pancakes.”  He looks away from the pan, his eyes shifting rapidly, looking everywhere but at Danny.  “So…I um…I figured I’d make you pancakes for breakfast.”

Danny swallows again.  “Pancakes, huh?” he says, his voice thick with emotion as Steve nods shyly at him, a stark contrast to the frustrated SEAL of moments before.  “You got another frying pan around here somewhere?”

Steve hesitates for a second.  Then the corner of his lips flick up.  “Sure.”

Fifteen minutes later, he’s got another batch of batter cooking in a fresh pan.  It’s still not the birthday he’d wish for – there’s still no Grace.  But with Steve standing beside him, occasionally asking him questions and gently nudging his shoulder as he cooks, his mood starts to improve.  

This giant putz who’s invaded his life has taken over his birthday, like he takes over everything.  That shouldn’t be news to him he thinks, as he slides a pancake onto a plate.  After all, he’s had no control over his life ever since they met that day in the garage.  But maybe, just this once, that’s not such a bad thing. 

Not that he’d ever tell Steve that, of course.

H50H50H50H50

Skip forward twelve months, it’s his birthday again.  He’s back in Steve’s kitchen, eating pancakes for breakfast.  This time, he’s got Grace with him.  That makes him very happy.  But everything else…everything else in his life is shit.

Matt’s gone.

He’s still not sure if he’s really comprehended the fact he might never see his brother ever again.  The aching emptiness in his chest tells him he has accepted it, that he’s working through his anger and loss.  But the way his mind keeps spotting Matt in every crowd is killing him.  Every damn, fucking time he thinks maybe, _maybe_ , it’ll be his brother.

It never is.

He stares blindly at the plate of pancakes in front of him.  They look good: Steve’s been practising.  He’s so tired though – so utterly exhausted – that eating feels like too much effort.

“I love your pancakes, Uncle Steve.”

Grace’s happiness cuts through his dark thoughts like a sharp knife.   Conjuring up a smile, he shares it with Gracie, who’s sitting beside him.  She beams back up him, her face smeared with maple syrup and squashed blueberries. 

He laughs, because he loves her and she’s beautiful, and how could he not, even if everything else in his life is going to hell.  Picking up his fork, he takes a mouthful of pancake.  “Not bad,” he tells her, pretending to chew thoughtfully.  “Not as good as mine, huh?”

Tilting her head, she considers his question.  “I think I like Uncle Steve’s best.”

He gives her his best horrified face.  It earns him the giggles he was hoping for.  Smiling, he turns to Steve who’s sitting opposite them.  His smile falters.  The feeling of dread and worry that’s his constant companion flares in his chest.

It’s been a few months since they rescued Steve from Wo Fat in North Korea.  The physical injuries from the torture have healed.  But Steve’s face has too many sharp edges and dark shadows.  There’s something lurking behind his eyes that wasn’t there before.  It’s the weight loss that’s scaring the hell out of Danny though.  Steve’s never carried any excess weight. Sometimes now, in the wrong light, Steve looks skeletal.

“Eat,” he orders, leaning across to tap Steve’s untouched plate with his fork.  “It’s my birthday, babe.  We’re supposed to be celebrating, remember?”

Grace chips in excitedly but he doesn’t hear what she’s saying.  He’s focused on Steve, daring him to push the pancakes away.  He lets out a shaky breath when Steve takes his first bite.  Turning his attention back to Grace, he still keeps one eye on Steve.  

It’s lucky Grace is there, Danny thinks, otherwise they’d be eating in silence.  It’s impossible not to be drawn into her excitement that it’s his birthday.  Even Steve joins in, between mouthfuls. 

Eventually there are three empty plates left.  He breathes a silent sigh of relief.  “Get changed and we’ll go swimming,” he tells Grace, as he collects the plates and puts them in the sink. “Right, Steve?”

“Sure.”  Steve grins at Grace, then winks.  She’s giggling as she disappears out of the kitchen and thunders up the stairs.  His smile fades as he meets Danny’s gaze.  Exhaling softly, he licks his lips.  “Thanks.”

“For what?”  Danny takes a steadying breath as Steve pushes his chair back and stands up.  They’re only one step apart.  “You made _me_ breakfast, babe.”

Steve crosses the final step.  The sharp edges of his face soften.  He looks younger.  He looks vulnerable.

Danny’s not sure how they end up in the  hug but suddenly, that’s where he is.  He can feel Steve’s breaths against his neck.  Steve’s scent fills his nostrils.  All of a sudden everything that’s happened in the last few months hits him.  He holds on tight, like a man drowning.  He can feel Steve’s fingers through his shirt, gripping him tight, _so_ tight.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he mouths, his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, babe.”

H50H50H50

Birthday pancakes become their annual tradition.  They keep it going no matter what life throws at them – and it throws a ton of shit.  The recovery of Freddie’s body, his parents separating (and getting back together again) and Catherine leaving.  Then there’s Matt – Jesus _Matt –_ and he’s a mess for a while after that. 

Then they meet Melissa and Lynn.

It’s the normality he’s been craving, or at least that’s what Danny tells himself.  It’s a chance to put down roots again, to have a long-term relationship and perhaps more kids.  She’s an intelligent, beautiful woman.  He’s a very lucky guy – as he reminds himself every day. 

When his birthday comes round again Melissa arranges a weekend away in Maui.  It’s a week before he gets up the courage to tell Steve.  Don’t be stupid, he tells himself as he pushes open the door to Steve’s office, Steve’s not gonna care.

He’s right.  Steve barely reacts at the news.  Apart from a muscle in his jaw twitching, no emotion registers on his face.  Sure, Steve smiles at the end, makes a comment about how Lynn would love Maui too and maybe he should look into that for her birthday.  But he’s calm.  He’s almost _too_ calm.

That thought stays with Danny as he travels to Maui with Melissa.  It niggles him all the way through the weekend.  Conflicted, he tries to push it the back of his mind.  By the time he wakes up on the morning of his birthday, with Melissa wrapped in his arms, he’s managed to almost forget about it.

The hotel Melissa’s booked is amazing.  Their bedroom is twice the size of his.  The bed linen is crisp, white and expensive-looking.  They’ve left the balcony doors slightly ajar: the gossamer-thin curtains drift lazily in the warm, morning breeze.  He can hear birds singing the morning chorus.  The scent of Pulmeria flowers fills the air.  It’s a little piece of Hawai’ian heaven, the stuff dreams are made of.  Pulling Melissa closer, he drifts back to sleep.

His cell buzzes.  He’s left it on the nightstand: opening one eye he glares at it.  Silently he wills it to silence.  Defiant, it buzzes again.

Officially he’s on vacation, so he could ignore it.  But his heartrate rises when it buzzes again.  He’s had too many early morning messages bearing bad news to be able to ignore it.  Shifting carefully, he retrieves the cell and thumbs on the screen.

Steve’s sent him a picture of a stack of pancakes.

Staring at it, he smiles.  It’s not actually a picture.  It’s a pencil drawing, and not a bad one, actually.  At the top right hand corner of the photo he can see the edge of the Governor of Hawaii’s official seal.  Apparently Steve’s commandeered official government supplies for his art project.

“Yo’ alrig’?”

Melissa’s sleepy question pulls him back to Maui.  His eyes widen in surprise as he realises ten minutes have passed since he opened the message.  He shushes her softly, stroking his free hand over her hair.  Once she’s asleep he looks at the picture again. 

He feels like a guilty kid using his phone after light outs.

He hates typing on his phone, it takes forever.  Doing it one-handed it almost impossible.  Eventually  he finds what’s he’s looking for: a GIF of Garfield the Cat, with a loopy, food-sated smile on his face and an empty plate in front of his fat belly.

He presses send.

His thumb waivers over the power button: he’s on vacation, he could turn it off.  Instead he stuffs it under his pillow.  He doesn’t even have time to settle back down again before it buzzes.  Grabbing it, he silences it.  Using the pillow to shield the screen, he opens the new message.

“Love you, buddy.  Happy birthday.”

A wave of sadness and longing hits him.  It takes his breath away.  He stuffs the cell back under the pillow, trying to obliterate everything he’s feeling. 

It doesn’t work.  It’s a long time before he goes back to sleep.

H50H50H50

Danny bites back a groan as he tries to get comfortable on Steve’s couch.  Donating part of his liver might not have been as risky as actually receiving it but his body still hurts like hell.  It’s the end of their first week back at work since the transplant.  He’s got no idea how he’s going to find the energy to make it to week two.

Steve, of course, is trying to power his way through these obstacles like he does with anything.  Instead of ordering take-out like they’d talked about he’s in the kitchen, banging doors and cooking things.  Danny lets his head flop back to rest on the couch.  Part of him thinks he should go check on Steve.  He glances over at the kitchen door then closes his eyes instead.

To be honest, it’s not just his body that’s aching.  It’s his heart too.  He snorts at his emo-esque introspection but it’s true.  Since the transplant he and Steve haven’t been getting on.  He gets that Steve is struggling.  But he’s struggling too. 

Nearly loosing Steve, it had scared the hell out of him.  He hadn’t thought twice about donating part of his liver: there wasn’t anything _to_ decide as far as he was concerned.  But what he hadn’t been prepared for was Steve withdrawing into himself, putting back up the barriers that he’s spent years pulling down.  It feels like the ultimate insult, a huge slap in the face.  Making the donation, he’d done it for love.  He’d hoped Steve had understood that.  As public declarations of love go, it’s pretty damn big.

Sighing, he opens his eyes again.  He wonders if he’s asking too much.  Steve has trust issues, particularly when it comes to relationships.  But so does he.  On paper they’re made for each other, both so screwed up they’ll forgive each other anything.  In reality, it feels like they’re continents apart.

His eyes flick left as the kitchen door opens.  They narrow as Steve appears carrying two plates of pancakes.  “It’s not my birthday,” he points out, as Steve hands him one and sits down beside him.  The words come out sharper than he means them to: Steve’s wincing as he sits, the result of throwing himself down a flight of stairs in pursuit of a suspect earlier in the day.

Steve’s eyebrows draw together in an angry frown.  “It will be in a few weeks’ time.”

Danny mentally kicks himself.  His birthday is a sore subject: for the first time in years he’s dreading it.  He’s an idiot for bringing it up.  Beside him, Steve’s hunched over his plate, his body language yelling ‘keep back’.  He puts his fork down, preparing to leave.  He hasn’t got the energy for this.  He’s weary to the bone.

Suddenly Steve sags, his whole body deflating.  “You were right,” he huffs, stabbing half-heartedly at his pancakes, “we should have got takeout.  I was gonna cook us something and then…”  He trails off, waving his hand in front of this body.  “I just…I figured pancakes were the easiest thing to make.”

“It’s lucky I like pancakes then.”

“Yeah.”  Steve eyes him, sideways.  Then his eyes slide away.

Danny chews on a mouthful of pancake and waits.

Steve puts his plate on the coffee table.  He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.  “I’ve been a jerk.”

“Hmm-hmm.”

Steve twists round to look at him.  “You’re agreeing?” He snorts.  “Great.  Thanks.”

Danny shrugs and takes another mouthful of pancake.  There’s no point lying.  They’re too good at reading each other for that.

“It’s just…”  Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he taps his chest gently, right where the surgery scar is.  “It’s a lot Danny to take in.  You know?  I mean…I woke up and they told me what you’d done and…”  He swallows hard again.  “I don’t get it…I just…I mean, why _me_?”

Danny ignores his fork as it clatters onto his plate.  The anger that he’s been struggling to keep at bay all day is screaming to be let out.  “Why _you?_ Are you kidding me?”

Steve raises his eyebrows.  He leans back, increasing the distance between them.  “You could have died, Danny, do you get that?  Grace and Charlie need you—”

“What about me, huh?”

“Danny—”

“Have you thought about what _I_ need?”  Shoving the plate on the coffee table, Danny gets to his feet.  “Of course you haven’t,” he shoots back, heading for the front door, “you think you’ve got it all figured out—”

Steve clamps a hand on his shoulder.  He slides out of his grip easily.  He grabs the door handle.  Suddenly Steve’s standing right in front of him.  There’s no way out.

“Let me go,” he grinds out, his hands flexing into fists. 

“Just let me explain—”

 _No, I’m done,_ he thinks.  Then Steve catches his gaze.  He’s never seen him look so desperate, so _lost_.  Closing his eyes against the sight, he drops his chin to his chest.  There’s no point in running.  His heart won’t let him leave him now.

“Danny?”

“Talk.”

“Look at me.”

“Steve—”

“Please.”

Exhaling slowly, he opens his eyes. 

Steve’s leaning forward, watching him closely.  His arms are crossed protectively in front of him.   He frowns, then licks his lips.  “Okay,” he starts, his nervousness startlingly obvious in the way he drags the word out.  “I know I’ve been a jerk, okay.  But…it’s because…I was worried about you and I have…”  He looks away, rubbing at his nose.  When he looks back, fierce determination is written across his face.  Air whistles between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath.  “I have feelings for you, okay?  I mean like…I’m in love with you.”  He takes another breath, deeper this time, not so shaky.  Straightening up, he nods to himself.  “Yeah.  I’m in love with you, Danny.”

Danny stares back.  Steve’s declaration is whirring around in his head like a spinning top.  He can’t get it to stop long enough to actually absorb what it means.

A shadow crosses Steve’s face.  He looks uncertain again.  “Look, I know this is kinda of sudden…I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same but I thought maybe…I mean…did I read this wrong?...If I read it wrong then I’m sorry.  You don’t have to—”

Danny’s brain f _inally_ catches up.  He rests his hand on Steve’s chest.  Steve’s heart is beating so hard he can feel it.  “I love you too.”

Hope blooms on Steve’s face.  “You _do_?”

“I do.”  He moves his hand higher, cupping the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him close.  Their first kiss is tentative, barely there, but his heart soars as it’s liberated from where it’s been patiently waiting all this time.  Breathing hard, he pulls away.  “Jesus, Steve, what took us so damn long?”

Steve shakes his head at him.  His expression is glazed, wonder-struck.  Danny takes pity on him, pulling him in for another kiss.  Their timing sucks, they’re both so screwed up right now.  But as Steve pulls away, a stupid goofy grin on his face, the worry that’s been crushing his heart for weeks lifts. 

He’s looking for the words to express what he’s feeling.  But his body has other ideas.  Suddenly he’s yawning, a huge yawn, all tonsils and teeth.  As romantic declarations go it scores zero out of ten.

“Bed,” Steve says simply, grabbing Danny’s hand and tugging.  “Just sleeping,” he adds, anticipating Danny’s next question.  “I don’t know about you but I’m beat.”

Danny hums sympathetically at the hint of regret in Steve’s words.  Tomorrow they’ll be time to show their love for each other.  And then – when they finally drag themselves out of bed – they’re going to talk about this some more.  His heart might be beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings right now but he’s not stupid – he knows they’re going to have to work at this relationship.  But as Steve leads him upstairs he’s sure of one thing:

He’s going to have the best birthday ever this year.

 The End.


End file.
